


Discipline

by INMH



Series: trope-bingo Fanfiction Fills 2016 (2nd Quarter) [1]
Category: James Bond (Craig movies)
Genre: Bond is a little shit, Light BDSM, M/M, Sexual Content, Spanking, Strong Language
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-22
Updated: 2016-09-22
Packaged: 2018-08-14 06:07:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,246
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8001349
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/INMH/pseuds/INMH
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bond’s had this coming to him for a long while now.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Discipline

“Christ, Bond.”  
  
Bond turned his head slightly, one eye visible over his shoulder. “Having second thoughts?”  
  
Mallory swallowed thickly, but his voice was controlled. “Not in the least.”  
  
“Get on with it, then.”  
  
Mallory’s eyes narrowed. “Who’s in charge, again?”  
  
“You are,” Bond said with a tone of mild and entirely unbelievable sweetness.  
  
“Right.” Mallory took another swig from his glass, then set it down on the dresser and unbuckled his belt. Bond turned his head forward again as he settled back onto the bed, looking far more relaxed than was appropriate. Mallory looped the belt in his hand, getting a firm grip, and then hesitated. “If it’s too much-”  
  
“You’ll know.”  
  
“What’ll you say?”  
  
Bond looked back at him again, one eyebrow raised. “‘ _Stop_ ’.” He said it dryly; like the question had been the dumbest he’d ever heard.  
  
Mallory gritted his teeth. If he’d had any hesitations before, they were gone now with that less-than-subtle reminder of why they were doing this in the first place.  
  
“Face forward, then,” He grunted, grip tightening on the belt. “And don’t open your mouth again.”  
  
“You may want to reconsider your wording.”  
  
“Shut up, Bond.”  
  
Bond didn’t say anything to that. He didn’t have to- Mallory knew he was smirking that fucking smirk.  
  
Christ, but this man set his blood to boil like nothing else.  
  
The first strike landed firmly on Bond’s ass. All Mallory heard was a small ‘hmf’.  
  
Mallory has never seen Bond crack before. Not when he’d come back to MI6 after being shot, not when he’d returned from Scotland with M’s body, not when he’d nearly been blown up and detailed Ernst Stavro Blofeld’s methods of interrogation. He knew this sort of man, had many versions of Bond over the years; the sort that you’d almost never see beyond the surface, too closely guarded to let anything even remotely mistakable for vulnerability to shine through.  
  
He was rather hoping tonight might change that.  
  
By the third and fourth strikes, however, Bond had managed to temper and then silence any further noises he might have been inclined to make. He bore them in silence, much as he did everything else.  
  
That was irritating. It was irritating because it felt (and probably _was_ ) like Bond was baiting him. _Can’t make me scream, can’t make me follow the rules, can’t make me obey the laws, can’t make me do anything, can you, M?_  
  
That was part of why they were doing this. That was a _large_ part of why they were doing this. Admittedly maybe more so on Mallory’s side than Bond’s, because a lot of the motivation for this had gone unspoken and what was spoken was done vaguely, covertly, both of them acting every bit the spies they were. And that was useful, given that… Well, Christ, how does a man approach his employee and suggest something like this?  
  
(The answer is that he doesn’t and didn’t, Bond was the one who suggested, tongue-in-cheek, that Mallory might want to spank him for his bad behavior, and at some point the conversation became far less sarcastic than it should have.)  
  
Mallory laid another strike, harder this time, but still mindful not to go so hard as to cause injury. That wasn’t the point of this: Stress-relief for him, and… Whatever, for Bond. Another entry in his extensive collection of sexual escapades, no doubt. It occurred to Mallory then that this may not be the first time Bond had done something like this; undoubtedly one of his sexual partners in the past must have felt the same burning frustration that Mallory felt now.  
  
Funny how one could find such a deep, abiding sympathy with someone they had never met before.  
  
“Is that really all you’ve got?” Bond muttered into the blanket, just loud enough to be heard.  
  
“Didn’t I tell you to shut up?”  
  
But Mallory took it that Bond wanted harder- so alright then, let’s go _harder_ , shall we? He increased the strength and frequency of the strikes, seamlessly switching hands when one arm tired. The only indicator that Bond was feeling the strikes was the slight jerking motion his hips were making. Admittedly, Mallory couldn’t tell if that was a natural reaction to being hit or whether it was a sign of pleasure.  
  
“Are you actually getting anything out of this, other than the pleasure of watching me wear myself out?”  
  
“Not watching you, am I?” Bond’s voice sounded vaguely breathless.  
  
Mallory meant to make another strike, but paused instead. After a moment, he dropped the belt, reached down and roughly flipped Bond over. The man’s pupils were noticeably larger, and his breath was shallower than before.  
  
Interesting.  
  
Contrary to popular belief, Mallory was not chosen to be the head of MI6 solely because of his enormous talent at bureaucracy. If Bond thought he was the only one who could be a tease, he was in for a very rude awakening indeed.  
  
Of course, the drawback to this was that he was teasing a man who, politely, could be described as ‘unpredictable’ and, perhaps, less politely described as a ‘hellion’. Their vague negotiations had brought them here, and any further would be wandering into uncharted territory- especially since Bond looked confused, and in his experience, Bond did not like to be confused. He liked to be in _control._ So yes, this was definitely pushing it.  
  
Well, let it never be said that Gareth Mallory was a coward.  
  
“Hm,” He muttered, raking his eyes over Bond’s unusually disheveled form without a hint of carnal interest. “You know, I really don’t see the point in continuing this if you’re not interested.”  
  
Bond frowned, and really, he must have been more affected that Mallory realized if he didn’t grasp that he was being baited.  
  
“I am enjoying it.”  
  
“That’s not the impression that I get.”  
  
It happened so fast that Mallory didn’t have a chance to realize that yes, right here, this is the crossing of the line from ‘what we agreed to’ to ‘definitely not what we agreed to, but I’m not complaining’.  
  
Bond lunged up and curled his hands around the back of Mallory’s neck, yanking him down onto the bed and into a hard kiss that was all teeth and tongue. Their hips rammed together, and Mallory saw stars that turned into a wall of white when Bond slipped a hand between his legs and gripped him roughly.  
  
The noise Mallory made was embarrassing, the sort he hadn’t made since he was a university student who was still green to the concept of having sex with other men. At least Bond was similarly affected; they might yet be able to look each other in the eye at work on Monday.  
  
“How’s that for ‘not interested’?” Bond murmured into Mallory’s ear.  
  
“Impressive,” Mallory responded with a sardonic edge to his drawl. “You’re quite the consummate actor.”  
  
“So I’ve been told.”   
  
Mallory straightened up, grimacing to realize that he ought to have pulled his pants down first. But then, he didn’t think he’d end up having the stamina of a bloody teenager, did he?  
  
Bond, it seemed, did not seem to have found his own satisfaction- purely physically speaking, of course. He turned over again, a position that must have been awfully uncomfortable, and settled into the bed as though nothing had happened.  
  
“Are you planning on finishing this?”  
  
Mallory sighed and reached for the belt. Incorrigible, as always.

Not unbreakable, though.  
  
“If you say so.”  
  
-End


End file.
